


Old Lone Ranger

by chiefharbour



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Petting, Kissing, Love Confessions, Making Out, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Sick Character, Smoking, Valentine's Day, accidentally married
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiefharbour/pseuds/chiefharbour
Summary: A series of unrelated drabbles about our favorite Chief of Police, Jim Hopper.
Relationships: Jim "Chief" Hopper & Original Female Character(s), Jim "Chief" Hopper & Reader, Jim "Chief" Hopper & You, Jim "Chief" Hopper/Original Character(s), Jim "Chief" Hopper/Original Female Character(s), Jim "Chief" Hopper/Reader, Jim "Chief" Hopper/You
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	1. Precious Little Chapel

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of works about Hopper, but I wanted a little collection of drabbles, ranging from fluffy to angsty to smutty and everything in between. Anything longer than 2000 words will be posted separately!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up with a ring on your finger and your best friend still snoring in his bed. What the hell happened last night?
> 
> Prompt: Accidentally Married (Requested by Anonymous)
> 
> Rating: T for Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here’s a little fluffy goodness to kick-start your weekend. Hope you enjoy!

Your eyes blinked open blearily, immediately wincing as a beam of sunlight peeked out from a window near the bed you currently occupied, a bed that definitely wasn’t your own. You groaned painfully, the feeling of a headache encompassing your entire being. You peaked open an eyelid to glance around the room, sighing in relief when you recognized the surroundings of your best friend’s bedroom.

You sat up groggily, looking past Hopper’s sleeping body to glare at the alarm clock, shocked to realize that it was already one o’clock in the afternoon. You flinched, hanging your head in your hands as you began to feel nauseous, the remnant of liquor brewing unpleasantly in your stomach. You sighed, pulling the sheets off of your body before walking slowly into the kitchen, intent on eating something to ease the hangover you were experiencing.

 _What the hell happened last night?_ The last thing that you remembered was buying Hopper another shot of liquor at the bar; everything after that was a blur of colors. You were fully clothed, so you knew that the odds of you both sleeping together were incredibly slim. Though you always wanted more out of the relationship that you had, you knew that having sex with one another would only make things unnecessarily complicated. He was a divorcee with an adopted daughter; the older man had enough drama in his life, and you would only provide yet another distraction.

You yawned loudly as you reached into the cabinet above the sink for a coffee mug, deciding at the last second to grab another one for Hopper. Just because you were only friends with him, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t enjoy the illusion of domesticity. You began to brew a pot of coffee before opening the refrigerator in search of some source of protein, smiling widely when you came across a half-full carton of eggs and a freshly-sealed package of bacon.

You placed the contents of your soon-to-be breakfast on the counter and began to search for a frying pan, opening random cabinets in hopes that you would come across one. As you reached out to look through a bottom drawer, you paused when a flash of light glinted off of your finger. You sucked in a huge breath of air as all of the memories from last night began to flood your mind.

_“Come on,” slurred Hopper, clutching your lower back so that you were firmly pressed against his chest. “I mean, we’re practically already a married couple.”  
_

_“No,” you slurred back, patting his chest. “Married couples kiss…and have s-sex. We don’t do either of those.”  
_

_“We could,” he drawled with a wicked smirk, waggling his eyebrows as he ducked his face down to look into your eyes. “Come on, doll. Let’s get hitched.”  
_

_“What a wonderful proposal,” you teased, pulling away from him with a laugh. “What a romantic story to tell our kids one day.”  
_

_“Kids?” he asked, his voice high in disbelief. “You want kids? As in multiple children?”_

_“I mean, El would technically be my kid if we ‘got hitched’,” you winked as you placed air quotations around the phrase. “And then we have to consummate the marriage, and I don’t half-ass a good consummation, Jim.”  
_

_He grinned widely, his mustache twitching as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Come on, doll. Marry me. The little chapel is only a few blocks away.”_

_You turned around in his arms with a smirk, thinking quickly before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, “Okay, okay, okay. Let’s get hitched!”_

“No no no no no no,” you cursed under your breath, spinning around and running out of the kitchen and into Hopper’s bedroom.

Once you noticed his figure still snoring and wrapped up snugly in the sheets, you grabbed the nearest pillow and began to hit him repeatedly with it, “Get the _fuck_ up, Hopper!”

Hopper winced, pulling the blanket up and over his head as he muttered, “Jus’ five more minutes.”

“We don’t have five more minutes!” you shrieks, continuing the assault on your friend, nay, _husband_. “We have a major problem.”

He flung the blanket off of his face angrily, looking up at you with a clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, “I am still drunk from last night, and my body feels like it’s been hit by a big-rig. What the fuck is so serious that you can’t wait just five more minutes?”

“ _This_ ,” you spat, shoving your hand in his face.

Confusion clouded his eyes before they widened once he acknowledged the silver band on your ring finger. He sat up quickly, cursing under his breath as all of the blood rushed from his spinning head. He looked down at his own hand, and, sure enough, he also had a matching band.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, looking up at you with worried eyes. “We…we got _married_?”

His face crumbled as all of the memories came back to him. You sighed, sitting down at the edge of the bed before looking over at him wearily, “What do you want to do?”

“Just…just give me a minute to process all of this, okay?” he asked, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and running towards the restroom, the sound of him throwing up echoing throughout the cabin.

You rubbed up and down your thighs awkwardly as you waited, deciding to stand up and pace around the cabin to distract yourself. As you walked into the living room, the sight of the coffee table caught your eye; the surface of the small table was messy with empty beer cans, as well as an ashtray filled with discarded cigarettes and a half-eaten package of Oreos. Your attention flew to a stack of polaroids that was placed near the edge of the table, prompting you to walk over and pick them up.

You gasped when you saw the stories that the small images held. The photos were from the Precious Little Chapel on the edge of Hawkins, a collection of images of the ceremony between you and Hopper. One image included the both of you standing at the altar, looking at each other dopily. The other, you both exchanging cheaply-made rings (no doubt purchased at the chapel). The final one showed you two kissing passionately, an image that made your mouth twitch into smile.

_“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the sketchily-ordained minister stated, somewhat excited as he looked between the both of you. “What are you waiting for? Kiss your bride!”  
_

_Hopper grinned wolfishly, grabbing your hips roughly and pulling you towards him so that your lips met his in a passionate embrace. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, a flimsy and small bouquet dangling for your limp hands as you fell into the man against you. He picked you up, your legs bending at the knee as he continued to take your breath away. You smiled against his lips before looking deeply into his eyes._

_“I am so in love with you, Jim Hopper,” you murmured against his mouth, pressing kisses all over his face.  
_

_“I love you, too, (Y/N) Hopper,” he responded, kissing your cheek and setting you back down on your wobbly feet._

You smiled softly as you held the polaroids in your hands, your thumb running along the edges of the white cards as you continued to analyze them. You jumped when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, easing immediately once you realized the hand belonged to Jim. You instinctually reached a hand up to rest on top of his, rubbing a thumb over the skin there.

“I suppose you want to get this annulled,” you assumed, your voice barely above a whisper and laced with disappointment.

“Why don’t we just grab some breakfast?” he asked, rubbing his hand on your shoulder.

“Breakfast?” you chuckled in confusion, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Consider it a weak attempt at me asking you out on a date,” he replied sheepishly, pressing a kiss to your hair before returning to his room to get dressed.

You smiled, pocketing the polaroids before standing up and returning the eggs and bacon to the refrigerator. 

You would have _plenty_ of mornings to cook for him. 


	2. Walking on Eggshells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Hopper have a really intense argument, leading you to reconsider the dynamics of your relationship. 
> 
> Prompt: “All I wanted was a happy ending.” (Requested by Anonymous)
> 
> Chapter Rating: T for Language and Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Monday sucks, so...by proxy...This is really angsty, and, as much as I hate angst, I wanted to try writing something a little different.

“You are such a _bitch_!” he snapped at you, his voice booming and his hand slamming harshly against the stovetop. 

You stood in the doorway, your mouth parted in shock and hurt as his face crumbled, immediately regretting the words that just slipped past his lips, “I didn’t mean that, I’m so-”

“- _No_ , you’re absolutely right,” you spat, fighting tears from spilling down your cheeks. “All I am is a bitch. I guess I’ll just go fuck off somewhere else, then. Leave you to your brooding bullshit for _yet another_ fucking night. You can go fuck yourself, Jim.”

You turned on your heels, grabbing your keys off of the kitchen table before escaping the stuffy atmosphere of the cabin, ignoring Hopper’s pleas for you to stay. You slammed the door behind you, the sound of the slam reverberating off of the trees surrounding the house. You crossed your arms over your chest, tears beginning to stream down your face. As silent sobs escaped your lips, you walked down the steps and headed towards the lake in an attempt to calm down before getting in your car to drive.

You sat down on top of a dry patch of leaves, looking out over the black water as the light of the moon shone brightly in the lake’s reflection. All you could manage to do was stare, trying your best to make sense of the past few months between you and your boyfriend.

You couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment when things began to plummet. A part of you had ignored the changes in hopes that things would get better, but better never came; it only got worse as the days passed. He would come home from the station unable to separate work from his personal life, the two realities morphing into the same entity. While you understood that his line of work was difficult, you couldn’t rationalize him taking his anger and stress out on you. Tonight had been the last straw.

It had been over a week since you both had any alone time together, and you longed for some sort of intimacy with him. As you both laid in bed in silence, you dared to reach a hand out to caress his bare shoulder, only for him to flinch and snap at you. From there, everything went south at the speed of light. The argument concluded with you addressing his fear of commitment, leading him to brand you as...well, you would rather not dwell on it.

You had been together for eight months. The first few months were some of the best that you ever had, and you fell harder for him than any other man you had ever been with. But as the months progressed and his line of work became more stressful, the love and spark between you began to quickly evaporate into thin air. Nevertheless, you held on to hope, a hope that had quickly disappeared after the events of tonight. Your relationship had died; you were just wasting time, fooling yourself that things could get better.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as your sobs began to quiet, your mind calming as you took deep breaths in time with the chirps of crickets. After a few moments of silence, you heard the sound of leaves crunching behind you, and you knew by the weight of it that they were being smashed by Hopper’s boots. He sat down besides you, leaving a foot between your bodies as he looked out onto the lake. 

“I am so, _so_ sorry,” he whispered, his voice soar from his own crying. “I never want to hurt you, and I would never, _ever_ , call you that. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do,” you said, your voice similarly sore as you wiped your eyes free of tears. “You meant it, Hopper.”

“No, I didn’t,” he snapped back, immediately taking a deep breath to calm himself. “It’s just...work has been so rough, and I just have so many people breathing down my neck about that Byers kid.”

“I know,” you whispered, turning your head to look at him with sad eyes. “I know it’s not your fault, but...all you do is snap at me and make me feel worthless. I am _so_ in love with you Hopper, but...I can’t keep living my life walking on egg shells around you. I just can’t.”

He looked into your eyes with a quivering bottom lip, his eyes welling once more with tears, “Please, I promise...I _promise_ , (Y/N). I will never snap at you again. Just... _please_ , I’m begging you to give me another chance.”

“You’ve had so many, Hopper,” you whimpered, shaking your head. “All I wanted was a happy ending for us, but...you keep trying to push me away. How can there be a future when you don’t even want to be in the same room as me anymore?”

His mouth parted, his eyes wide like that of a hurt puppy dog. Your mouth formed in a tight line, your jaw clenching as you looked back at the lake, “I think...I think that a break would be the best thing for the both of us.”

“Please,” he whispered, reaching out to rest his hand your arm only for you to flinch away from his touch. “Don’t...don’t leave me, _please_.”

“I don’t _want_ to leave you,” you whispered. “But...until you can figure out how to control yourself, I...we need to break up.”

Hopper looked away from you, trying his hardest to not fall into pieces in front of you. You looked over at him and cupped his cheek, prompting him to reluctantly look up at you, “I love you _so_ much, Jim. And I will wait for you, even if I have to wait until the day I die. But...you need to focus on yourself right now. You need to...get Jim back.”

He broke away from you, standing up quickly and walking away as tears streamed down his face. You called after him, but he ignored them, not wanting you to see him cry. He didn’t want you to see him break down like this, his face filled with disappointment and heartache. 

He barged into his cabin, locking the door behind him before dragging his feet to his bed. He sat down, clinging a pillow over his chest as he tried to stop the tears from falling, but he couldn’t. They wouldn’t stop. It was as if all of the months of stress and anger came to a head, resulting in an explosion between the both of you. 

He sighed, pulling open his nightstand drawer and retrieving a small, black-velvet box. All he could think was that he fucked it up. 

He fucked _everything_ up. 


	3. Warm & Soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Hopper watch a movie, but he can’t keep his hands to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We be getting into these prompts, bois!  
> ~  
> Prompts:  
> 1\. Top-of-Head Kisses  
> 2\. Murmuring Into Each Other's Mouths; Lap Kisses  
> 3\. Pet Names
> 
> Chapter Rating: T for Language

You snuggled your body closer to Hopper’s as you both laid out on the couch, a warm wool blanket thrown over the both of you as you watched a syndicated version of _The Way We Were_ on the TV set. You rested your head against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing almost lulling you to sleep. Nights like these were your favorite, and being encompassed in your fiance’s arms quickly became your favorite past time. 

Hopper continued to press gentle kisses, mostly in your hair and occasionally dipping to your forehead and temples, as you drew invisible patterns over his chest. You smiled against him as he rubbed his hand up and down the curve of your spine. 

“Honey, you gettin’ hungry?” he whispered against your hair, his fingers teasing the piece of skin revealed from the rise of your tee shirt.

“I am, but I don’t wanna move,” you grumbled against his chest, snuggling closer to him to prove your point. “You’re just too warm and soft for me to leave you alone on the couch.”

He chuckled against your hair, “But just think how good a bowl of popcorn sounds right about now.”

You groaned against him, your mouth beginning to water at the thought. You looked up at him through slitted eyes, “You’re a pain in the ass. Why can’t you just go and make some for us?”

“You and I both know that those kernels will catch on fire if you put me in charge of that,” he stated with serious eyes.

You sighed, through your nose, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

You parted from him slowly before pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and getting up, immediately shivering at the shift in temperature. Hopper shifted in his seat, pulling the blanket up and over his chest as he continued to watch the movie. You opened up the nearest cabinet and retrieved a bag of popcorn, tossing it into the microwave and hopping up to sit on the counter as you waited. Once the scent of butter and salt began to fill the air, and the sound of popping ceased, you took it out, hissing as steam came into contact with your skin. You quickly ripped it open and poured it into a bowl that had been drying on the rack next to the sink.

You walked over to him, bowl in hand, before standing in front of him teasingly, placing a kernel into your mouth slowly, “Mmm, this tastes _so_ fucking good.”

Hopper lifted his eyebrows as his eyes began to darken, “Careful there, baby girl.”

You moaned albeit somewhat pornographically, closing your eyes, “So salty and…feels _so good_ in my mouth.”

“You’re a little minx, you know that?” he snickered, pulling your waist down so that you sat in his lap. 

You giggled loudly, clutching the bowl to your chest before picking up a piece and feeding it to him, “You’re so cute.”

“Me?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you before smiling up at you. “I think I’m a little old to be cute.”

“You’re a cute old man,” you winked, before he squeezed your sides between his finger tips, causing you to laugh. “Stop, that tickles!”

He halted his ticklish flow and kissed your cheek, holding you as you both returned you attention to the television screen. After a few minutes, you felt Hopper shift uncomfortably underneath you, his arms squeezing around you tighter before he began to press kisses up your neck. You arched you neck with a light whimper so he could have more access to your skin. He sucked on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp and for the bowl of popcorn to fall onto the floor.

“ _Son of a bitch!_ ” you breathed, going to move off of his lap to begin picking up the mess before Hopper grabbed your arm.

“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered against your neck. “I’ll clean it up later, sugar.”

You smirked, turning around in his arms before pressing your lips against his mouth, giggling into it, “Now who’s the little minx?”

He hummed against your lips, a smile lifting at the corners of his mouth, “You know, you’re so cute when you get all flustered.”

“Oh, yeah?” you teased, rubbing your hands up and down his chest lovingly before pressing a kiss to the edge of his mouth. “You think you got me all figured out, Mr. Fancy Pants?”

“I got a pretty good idea, baby doll,” he smirked, murmuring against your lips as he pulled you to straddle his lap.

“You’re so cute when you’re all handsy,” you groaned into his mouth, rolling your hips against his.

You looked around the cabin before smirking down at him, “What time is El coming home?”

“We got plenty of time, cutie,” he whispered with a wink, rubbing circles over your ass with his hands.

“Good,” you smiled, leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

The popcorn could wait.


	4. Word Vomit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last thing you want tonight is for your boyfriend to see you so sick, but Hopper is more than man enough to handle you.
> 
> Chapter Rating: T for Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt requested by @we-are-all-a-messs on tumblr. Happy Birthday!

“I’m really sorry, baby,” you coughed into the receiver of the phone, your heart hurting more than your stomach as you called to cancel your date so last-minute.

“Please let me come over,” he pleaded, having just pulled over to call you when your message came through on his beeper. “Not to brag, but I make one hell of a chicken noodle soup.”

“That’s really sweet, Hop, but I don’t want to get you sick,” you whimpered, blowing your nose into an over-used Kleenex as your ears began to ring. “You have that police conference at the end of the week, and you don’t need to risk getting all gross and sick because of me.”

“…fine,” he relented, his voice somewhat soft; honestly, you were surprised that you had won the battle so easily. You had expected him to put up more of a fight.

“I promise I’ll call you in the morning. Y’know… _after_ I stop hurling every ten minutes,” you chuckled, coughing violently at the end of your laughter. 

“Get some rest,” he whispered into the phone before hanging up the phone.

You placed your phone back on the hook before wrapping yourself up tightly in the large duvet blanket that covered your bed. Shockingly, you began to drift off to sleep somewhat quickly, sweat peppering your forehead despite the chills creeping up and down your body. You awoke around an hour later, drool pooled on your pillow case as the smell of warmed chicken broth filled your apartment.

At first, you thought you were still dreaming, but then you felt bile rise in your throat. _Nope, definitely not dreaming_. You rushed out of bed, the blanket falling to the floor as you dashed to the hallway bathroom. As soon as you passed under the doorframe, you hunched your body over the toilet bowl and began to throw up. You had been going through hours of relentless rejection from your body, and your throat burned like fire as a result. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so gross and disgusting and-

“There you go, it’s okay; let it all out,” came a deep and soothing voice as a large hand threaded through your hair to create a makeshift ponytail, protecting your locks from the results of your illness.

You jumped and gasped harshly, wiping your mouth with wide eyes as you looked over your shoulder, “ _Dammit, Jim!_ I told you not to come over!”

“Yeah, but you forgot that you gave me a key last week, and I’m going to do whatever the hell I want,” he drawled, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he looked over your face. 

You winced, looking away from him bashfully, “God, I really, _really_ don’t want you to see me like th-”

 _And there goes the rest of last night’s dinner_. He rubbed soothing circles over your back with his free hand as you continued to heave into the toilet bowl. Once you were finally done, he flushed the toilet for you before reaching for a washcloth, wetting it under the sink before bringing it down to wipe your mouth clean. He slowly helped you up, cautious to hold all of your weight in case you felt light-headed. You clutched your stomach as he led you to the living room, setting you down on the couch before placing a blanket over your body.

“Soup should be done in about five minutes,” he said, his voice low in case you had a headache.

“Jesus christ, I love you,” you murmured, clutching the blanket before freezing still. Your eyes grew wide as you realized what came out of your mouth, and it wasn’t puke. _More like word vomit_ , you thought to yourself.

He smiled, his face glowing as he leaned down to press a kiss to your clammy forehead, “I love you, too. Now, get comfy and pick a movie. I brought a few videotapes in my bag.”

Your boyfriend was honestly your knight in shining armor, and, when he inevitably got a sick a few days later, you showed up at his apartment with your own recipe for soup, holding him as he coughed and blew his nose throughout the entire night. 


	5. Cheesecake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to Hopper’s chagrin, you manage to drag him to a baking class for Valentine’s Day. However, Hopper still intends on keeping his own plans.
> 
> Chapter Rating: M (16+) for Sexual Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to try to focus on Valentine’s day requests first and foremost this week; whatever free time I have left over will be used to sift through my little rolodex of prompts. 
> 
> Valentine's Prompt: Naughty Whispers

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to a fucking _cooking class_ for Valentine’s Day,” Hopper grunted, your hands entwined as you walked down the block to the local bakery. “I could be fucking you all over the house, but, _no_ , you just had to learn how to make a mini cheesecake, which we could buy at the _damn grocery store_.”

You snickered at your boyfriend’s frustration, squeezing his hand assuringly as you kissed his cheek, “Oh, come on, Hop. It’s gonna be a lot of fun. I promise you can lick the spoon.”

“I’d rather be licking something else,” he mumbled, his eyes locked on the floor.

“You’re a horn dog,” you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a chuckle. “You can lick whatever you want after you help me make this damn cheesecake.”

He eyed over your body, whistling lowly as his eyes landed on your ass, “It’s a damn shame to leave an ass that tight untouched.”

“ _Knock it off!_ ” you giggled, smacking his chest as you approached the bakery.

“Fine, fine,” he relented, opening the door for you. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

And he was, right up until you had to bend over to put the cheesecakes in the oven. He slid behind you, making sure to graze his prominent bulge up against your ass. The motion was so quick is almost gave you whiplash. 

“ _Hopper!_ ” you hissed, slamming the door and looking around to make sure that none of the other couples or the instructor was looking. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

“You just look so delicious,” he cooed, his hands pawing at your sides as you attempted to conceal a giggle.

“Yeah, well the dessert will _actually_ be delicious, so be patient,” you giggled, shooing his hands away as you sat down on the stool, looking over the instructional sheet for the next step.

“Have I told you just how fucking good your ass looks?” he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Your cheeks grew scarlet as his hand crept up your thigh. You swallowed thickly, trying your hardest to focus on the words in front of you, “Once or twice. Now, help me crystallize the raspberry puree.”

He hummed, reaching for the puree on the side, “What shapes am I making?”

“Hearts, I guess,” you shrugged, grabbing a piece of freezer paper.

“I have a better idea,” he chuckled, drawing a phallic shape onto the paper.

You gasped and grabbed the bottle from him with an admonishing glare, yelling a little louder so that all the couples turned to you in surprise, “Jim!”

You blushed, correcting the shape into more of a blob than a dick. He snickered against you, whispering in your ear, “Awe, come on, baby. I know you want it.”

You inhaled sharply when you felt his hand crawl down your spine before grabbing a handful of your ass, “I can practically smell how wet you are from here. You think everyone else can, too?”

“Hopper, _please_ ,” you whimpered, the bottle of raspberry puree almost dangling from your hands.

“Please, what? Tell me what you want,” he smirked against your ear, his hand continuing to knead over you.

“How are you guys hanging in over here?” the instructor asked, approaching you from the front of the table. Hopper continued to massage your cheek in his hand as he looked up at her with a wide grin.

“Great! We had a tiny accident with the puree, but I think we’re getting the hang of it,” he replied smoothly, like he _wasn’t_ groping you.

“Good! Well, I’ll be over here if you guys have any questions.”

“T-Thanks,” you sputtered out, almost whimpering as you felt his fingers travel lower.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” he whispered coarsely, removing his hand before tracing your jaw gently with his finger. “I can’t keep looking at you in that tight-ass dress without bending you over this table and fucking you so hard you can’t walk.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” you sighed, your eyes honed in on his lips. “But… _the cheesecake_.”

“ _Fuck the cheesecake!_ ”


	6. Craving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can’t just not take advantage of the way Hopper is sitting on the porch, right?
> 
> Chapter Rating: E (18+) for Explicit Sexual Content

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anon Requested: hey love, can you do a hc of reader giving hop a bj while he smokes ?
> 
> I couldn’t help myself, Anon. I had to make this into a drabble. I hope you don’t mind.

You had craved it all day. It was the one thought you had in the morning, the one thought you had during your lunch break, and it was all you could think of when you came home to an empty cabin. Needless to say, you were on edge, and the only thing that could take it off was Jim Hopper’s cock deep in your mouth.

You looked at the clock that hung on the wall and sighed. _7:30_. He was supposed to be home a half an hour ago, so there was no telling when he would get home. The ache between your thighs was rampant, and you knew that the only way you could even have a _chance_ at thinking straight was if you took a cold shower. 

Forty minutes, one glass of wine, and a shower-head nozzle session later, you still found yourself yearning more than ever. It was as if your fiance had some sort of spell on you, and it was beginning to piss you off. As you walked out of the bathroom, your satin robe clinging tightly over your body as your wet hair began to air dry, your smelled the familiar scent of Camel cigarette smoke. It wasn’t stale, either. _It was fresh_.

Your bare feet padded against the floor as you gingerly reached for the door knob, turning it and peaking your head out to see a sinful sight perched on the steps of the porch.

It had clearly been a rough day for him. Hopper was inhaling a cigarette that dangled from his lips, resting back against his hands as his body laid out along the small set of stairs. He looked a _sight_ , his hair slightly tussled and uniform shirt partly unbuttoned to reveal a small tuft of chest hair. You shivered, your mouth salivating when your eyes fell upon the bulge in his khaki pants.

He seemed to feel your eyes on him as he turned his neck, a wide smile creeping over his face when he saw you, “You are a sight for some sore-ass eyes, baby girl. Come here.”

You walked over to him, immediately straddling his waist and surprising him. He looked of primal sex, the image of that cigarette dangling over his bottom lip causing a slick arousal to form in between your legs.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he drawled, reaching up to remove the cigarette from his mouth. 

As he went to put it out prematurely, you stopped him, “No, keep it in.”

He raised his eyebrow, slowly putting it back in his mouth before murmuring around it, “What’s gotten into you?”

“ _Hopefully you_ ,” you smirked, leaning forward to lick a stripe down his neck.

He groaned underneath your touch, your hands roaming down his chest before playing with his belt, “I don’t know what it is about you, Hopper.”

You slid down from his waist and knelt in between his sturdy thighs, making quick work of his button and zipper, “The only fucking thing that I could manage to think about was your cock in my mouth. _All. Fucking. Day. Long_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, smoke coming out of his mouth in puffs as he reached to entangle his fingers in your damp curls.

“I need you to fuck my mouth, Hop,” you pleaded, taking his thick member out of his pants and immediately licking the tip of his cock. “ _Fuck_ , you taste like heaven.”

He moaned, the vibrations of his carnal reaction sending sparks of arousal to your core. _As if you couldn’t get any wetter_.

“You heard me, baby?” you whispered, your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock. 

“Yeah, _fuck_ , suck my cock,” he grunted, hallowing his cheeks to inhale more nicotine into his lungs.

You smirked around the tip before holding it in your grasp. You licked a broad and thick stripe up the underside of his cock, adding pressure to the vein that protruded slightly there. Once reaching the tip, you massaged your tongue right below the slit, moaning at the taste of precum that began to leak from it.

With a wicked glint in your eyes, you began to swallow around his length, sliding all the way down to the hilt until your nose was pressed up against the tuft of curls at the base. You gagged slightly, quickly fighting the urge to cough as your hunger for his cock grew stronger. You swallowed around him, curling your tongue along the underside of his length before you began to bob your head.

“Oh, _fuck_ , you feel so fucking good, _yeah_ , just like _that_ , baby girl,” he chanted, his fingers gripping against your scalp as he cautiously began to rock his hips against your face.

You were in absolute heaven, the image above you almost causing you to cream yourself. How could someone look so fucking sexy while smoking that little white stick? His tongue pressed against it, smoke coming out of his nose as he sucked on it for dear life. His neck was tossed back in pleasure, your ability to deep-throat his cock sending him into an alternate reality.

“I’m, _oh, fuck_ , baby I’m gonna come,” he warned, his thrusts becoming more sloppy.

You smiled around his length, bobbing and hallowing your cheeks in rapid succession as you reached your hand up to massage his balls in your hand. That was all it took.

You swallowed him greedily, milking him for all of his worth as he spilt down your throat. His thighs quivered rapidly against you, his chest rising and falling as the cigarette dropped from his mouth, lips parted from the moans and praises he gave you as he came.

You popped off of him, wiping your mouth of the excess saliva and left-over come that had escaped your lips.

“Jesus _fucking_ christ,” he gasped, collapsing onto the wooden planks. “I-oh, _fuck_ , baby girl.”

You chuckled, you hunger only slightly satiated as you crawled up his body, “How quick until you can go again?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he whined with a chuckle. “Get up here, baby. Sit on my fucking face right now before I spank your ass red.”

You whimpered, climbing up his chest and straddling his face, nearly coming at the sight below you.

“ _Fuck_ , don’t hold back. Ride my fucking tongue.”


	7. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your boyfriend breaks up with you, your best friend redeems your crummy Valentine’s dinner with a confession.
> 
> Chapter Rating: T for Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited today. Let it be known that on February 14 of 2020 we were blessed by the Duffer Brothers and their release of that glorious season four teaser. Hopper is alive, and, now, so is my inspiration to write more about him. Happy Valentine’s Day!
> 
> Prompt: Ok Valentine’s Day smut/fluff (your choice!) prompt. Hopper and reader are friends and readers boyfriend breaks up with them right before Valentines so Hopper has them over and ends up telling them how he feels

You held your arms tightly across the expanse of your chest, your body shivering as you walked through the woods. It had been raining for what seemed like hours, but you knew you had only been walking for about twenty minutes.

The night had started off promising at first. You and Gregory, your boyfriend of around two years, were off to enjoy a nice candle lit dinner on Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t anything major, so you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary about it. Perhaps you _should_ have had your guard up, as that was typically the norm with him.

“I think we should break up,” your now ex-boyfriend explained across from the table.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, looking at him expectantly as you waited for a punch line. After watching him uncomfortably swallow back the rest of his red wine, you realized with reddened cheeks that there was none.

“Let me get this straight,” you said slowly, resting your fingertips on the white linen tablecloth. “You brought me to a fancy dinner across town, on _**Valentine’s Day**_ , to break off our two-year relationship. Are you _**fucking**_ serious right now?”

“I didn’t know how to do this,” he panicked, his beady eyes looking at you nervously as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I’ve never been the one to do the breaking up.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled cynically, “If one of your ex-girlfriends had the _gall_ to break up with you on Valentine’s Day, how would you react?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” he started, the puzzle pieces beginning to click together in his head, regret now clouding his eyes.

“ _Exactly_ ,” you spat, standing up and gathering your things.

“Where are you going? I still need to pay,” he said, his voice slightly above a whisper as he watched you move angrily.

“That’s not exactly your business anymore, is it?” you snapped coldly, turning around and walking towards the exit of the restaurant.

You cursed under your breath when you realized it had begun to storm outside during your meal. You bit your lower lip and checked your watch, trying to decide if your friend would be home at this time. To your knowledge, Hopper hadn’t made any plans for Valentine’s Day, and he usually got off of work around 6. With a sigh, you opened the cold door and accepted your fate in the rain.

That’s how you found yourself currently trudging through the slick mud surrounding Hopper’s cabin, drenched in freezing rain water before you banged an angry fist upon your friend’s front door. You clung your arms over your now-drenched grey dress, your boots slippery with wet dirt. You sighed in relief when Hopper finally opened the door, his eyes widening when he saw your current state.

“What the hell-”

“-Get me a towel and some clothes,” you demanded, your teeth chattering as you walked past him and immediately took off your ruined boots.

Without asking any questions, he quickly retreated to his bedroom before returning with a yellow, bleach-stained beach towel and an over-sized Thanksgiving tee-shirt. You smiled at him warmly, silently thanking him as you took both articles from his hands.

With another shiver, you quickly pulled your dress up and over your head, standing in your equally-drenched set of under garments, not thinking twice about changing in front of him. Hopper gasped, his eyes tracing the curves of your hips before he abruptly turned around, trying to give you an illusion of privacy.

“Y-You wanna tell me why you showed up here all wet like that?” he asked, his eyes looking at the wall in front of him uncomfortably as you removed your underwear and tossed them aside.

“ _Gregory_ ,” you hissed, beginning to towel off your body. “He decided to dump me, and I didn’t want him to drive me home. So…here I am.”

You threw his shirt on before wrapping your wet hair in the towel, walking over to the couch and grabbing Hopper’s wool blanket, immediately snuggling into the material as you sat down, “I can’t believe I wasted two years on that son of a bitch.”

“I can’t either,” he murmured, taking a peek over his shoulder and smiling once he saw you laid out.

“He’s such an asshole,” you whispered, feeling your eyes begin to trickle with tears.

As much as you thought Greg was a pain in the ass, you _did_ love him. He was probably the longest relationship that you had ever had, and, while a part of you was relieved that he finally broke things off for the both of you, another part was slightly heartbroken. Hopper sighed and sat down next to you, pulling you into a warm embrace before kissing your temple softly.

“He’s a prick,” he stated plainly, maneuvering himself so that he shared the blanket with you. “I always knew he didn’t deserve you. You’re far too amazing for a schmuck like that.”

You chuckled lightly, clinging to his navy-blue henley, “You’re so warm.”

“It’s the blubber,” he smiled, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to take in the scent of his cologne, sighing dreamily as you began to feel yourself warm up. Hopper was always your safe place, even when the two of you first met. When you came to Hawkins, you didn’t know a soul. It wasn’t until Hopper came into the store one day for a pack of cigarettes and spearmint gum that you were finally able to find a friend, though you originally yearned for more than that with him.

At first you thought that he may have felt the same, but eventually one year turned into two, and two years turned into four. You were hopelessly in love with him, but he never made a move on you. Gregory _did_ , and, since you always dreamed of getting married before thirty, you didn’t hesitate. Even though you were with Gregory, you were still in love with Hopper, and that would be something that would never change.

“I should kick his puny ass,” he grumbled, reaching for the remote control. “Fucking Valentine’s Day…what a _loser_.”

“I’m honestly surprised you were even home,” you mumbled into his chest. “I figured you would be trying to get yourself laid tonight.”

He laughed heartily, shaking his head, “Oh, no. That would require too much effort, and I, my dear, am very tired.”

You smirked, trailing your finger along the neckline of his shirt, “When was the last time you went on a date, Hop?”

He hummed, “It’s been too long for me to keep track. Maybe a few years?”

You nodded, snuggling into his neck, “You’re too good of a man to not be taken off of the market yet.”

“Oh, yeah?” he teased, flipping through the channels.

You felt your courage build in your chest. You looked up and allowed your eyes to trace the contours of his face, “ _Yeah._ ”

He looked down at you with a smile, his lips parting upon seeing the intensity in your eyes. His gaze darted to your lips and back up to your orbs before he laughed nervously, releasing his grip from you and sitting straight.

“God, this is _really_ not a good time to do this…” he whispered to himself, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he looked down.

You furrowed your eyebrows together as he looked at you hesitantly, “I…there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Huh?” you questioned, pulling your knees up into your chest as he turned his body to face you.

“We’ve known each other for, what? Six years now?” he asked, prompting you to nod. “It’s taken me a long time to come around, you know? I have a lot of demons and skeletons in my closet, and-”

“Hopper?” you interrupted, causing him to look at you wide-eyed. “Get to the point.”

“My _point_ is…I didn’t ever want to rope you into anything that I couldn’t back up, y’know?” he said, reaching his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “When you started dating _him_ , I…I saw red, (Y/N). That’s _all_ I could see. You have no idea how much I wanted to just punch the shit out of his smug little face.”

“Smug?” you giggled, tilting your head.

“Yeah, _smug_. The smug little bastard knew that he got what I was too scared to go after for four long years,” he said, looking at you deeply in the eyes. “But now…now I’m not so scared anymore.”

You felt your mouth go dry as he scooted closer to you, entangling your fingers with his own, “Look, I don’t expect you to feel the same way. It’s the reason I never said anything before, but I think I might deteriorate if I don’t say it now.”

You swallowed, a tiny smile pulling on your lips as he continued, “I love you. I always have and I always will. And, whether you want me as a friend or something more, I will always be there for you, because I do. I _do_ love you.”

A small silence fell between you before you smiled sweetly, your body moving forward without much thought as you cradled his face in your hands, connecting your lips together in a firm embrace. His hands rested on your hips, careful to not touch any piece of revealed skin. You kneeled on the couch, your face hovering over his slightly as you bent his head back, deepening the kiss even further. He hesitantly brushed his tongue against yours and you whimpered high in your throat, parting from him.

“I love you,” you affirmed, smiling and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he smirked, pulling you into his chest.


	8. The Definition of Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Making out with Hopper is steamy, it’s erotic…it’s the definition of sex.
> 
> Rating: M (16+)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't written anything in twenty years.

You relished having all of Hopper’s weight on top of you as his body rested perfectly in between your parted and welcoming thighs. ‘

He was big, warm. He was perfect, the definition of sex. 

His cologne and natural scent surrounded you in waves, intoxicating you as his tongue explored your mouth. A hint of nicotine was present in the air, proof of his last cigarette before dinner. Before he pounced on you after dessert.

You tightened the grip of your thighs around the man’s thick waist, smirking against his lips as you began to slowly rock your hips forward. His tongue tasted like cherry pie and whiskey. Utterly intoxicating.

He groaned above you, his thick fingers slowly rubbing up and down the skin of your hips exposed by your shirt. You cupped his scruffy cheeks, the pads of your fingertips grazing over the soft skin of his face.

“ _Fuck_ , you taste so good,” you whimpered, breaking away from the man’s lips to catch your breath, looking up into his deep blue eyes, his pupils dilated as he hovered over you.

His fingers traveled higher, playing with the skin right below your breasts as he smiled dopily at you, his whiskers twitching, “Yeah?”

You hummed, biting your lower lip before nodding as you let your hands drop to the slope of Hopper’s shoulders. He was so broad and warm. 

It made you ache. He made you throb violently in between your thighs. You needed him to touch you, to give you release.

“ _You’re so fucking sexy,_ ” he growled, lifting a hand up to yank your hair back, exposing your neck to him.

He hovered his face over the slope of your neck, his nose trailing gently over your skin.

Tantric. _Erotic_.

You whimpered, triggering his primal instincts, his mouth finding yours once more. You moaned into the kiss, your lips parting immediately for his tongue as a growl of pleasure erupted from your chest.

His tongue was silky and smooth against your own. You could drown in him, drift away as he flooded your center over and over again.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your eyelids fluttering every time he licked into your mouth even deeper. You loved the way that his mustache tickled your upper lip. You knew it would be red afterwards, blatant evidence of what he had done to you.

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulders as you began to thrust against him, moaning when you felt the thick length of his cock press against your inner thigh.

“You’re so big,” you drawled against him, teasing his tongue with your own.

“You like how big I am?” he smiled, rubbing his nose against your’s affectionately before pressing a peck to the tip of it.

“I fucking love it,” you replied breathlessly, grabbing his face and pressing your mouths together again.

You reached down in between your bodies, your hand rubbing up and down the prominent bulge in his dark denim jeans. He moaned into your mouth, his hips chasing after your grasp.

Your tongues danced together, the only sound in the room the skipping of a record and your heaving breathing. 

Sexy. _Filthy_.

You loved every second of it. _Of him_.

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” he cursed, biting your lower lip and tugging on it gently before he released it, sliding his own hand down to rub your clit through the inseam of your pants. “I can feel how wet you are through your jeans, baby. _Fuck_.”

“You feel how wet you make me?” you whispered, rubbing over his erection with more pressure before kissing down his jaw.

“I want you around my cock,” he replied breathlessly, groaning as you sucked a deep purple bruise into his neck.

You whimpered high in your throat. You needed him inside of you. Needed to release.

“Fuck,” he moaned, unbuttoning your jeans. “Fuck me, baby. _I wanna make you cum._ ”


End file.
